Conquered Heart (Legend of the King's Guard Book 1)

by Kara Griffin

  Brodin scowled from his position on the ground. He knelt and rubbed his shield with the oil and soot mixture. “Don’t know why we’d bother to cover our blades for they’ll be covered with blood by the morn light.”

  “We cannot chance someone seeing the glint of our swords. Cover them well,” Graeme instructed.

  When everyone was ready, their camouflage covered their bodies, shields, and swords, Graeme bid them to wait. “We should stand here and look into the darkness.”

  Heath chuckled. “I vow Graeme’s got a strange sense of warfare.”

  He would’ve thought them maddened too if they’d suggested he do such a thing. His grandda told him that if one acclimated to the darkness, the dark wouldn’t be as difficult to navigate. “By doing so we’ll adjust to the light and will see better. Just keep your eyes peered on the darkest part of the woods for a few minutes. It’ll heighten your senses too, for we’ll be able to hear and smell better.”

  They held silent, each stared off into the obscure woods. After enough time passed, Graeme motioned to them.

  “Let us onward to the keep. You ken the plan. We will take out as many men as we can and keep an eye on Robert’s back when the army arrives. There’s not much time before they arrive, thus don’t be long and dally. If we get separated, we’ll rejoin at the cave. Remember the code if you need aid.” He unsheathed his sword and walked toward the fortification.

  Liam walked beside Brodin, and Heath fell back behind them, Graeme took up the rear. No noise came from the walls. The watch was inattentive, and Graeme signaled to the men. A noise, a crunch of a twig or branch sounded behind him, and he turned hastily to see if someone was there. He couldn’t discern anyone between the shadowy tree trunks.

  With a wave, he told the men to continue. No sooner had they walked five steps, his friends became obscure, and blended with the darkness surrounding them. Their concealment made their task easier, being unseen.

  Graeme retreated behind a tree and listed. If someone was there, he’d take care of the danger and rejoin his men. Footsteps sounded nearby, and he shifted his position around the tree. The lad they’d seen at the mead hall stood in the center of the trees they’d only just vacated. The half-moon shone on his cloak.

  Damn the foolish lad.

  He waited until the intruder reached him before he’d take action. A few more steps and he’d be close enough to capture. Graeme didn’t want the lad to give away their attack and had to ensure their mission went according to plan. The pursuer took no caution as he progressed between the trees and several more twigs cracked beneath his feet.

  With light steps, Graeme skulked toward him. The thickly leaved branches above blocked out the light from the moon and the lad stood next to him. Unseen in his darkened garments, Graeme moved behind him and snatched his arms. He brought the lurker back against him and covered his mouth.

  Just as he thought, the lad was puny. His adversary struggled against his hold, but Graeme held tight. He leaned toward the lad’s ear and whispered, “Quiet. Make no sound.”

  Chapter FIVE

  She couldn’t breathe. The brute’s hand covered both her nose and mouth. Kerrigan struggled against him and felt nothing but muscle. The man was too brawny to escape. In desperation, she reached for his hand and tried to pry it away from her mouth. She realized he was not about to remove his hand or release her, so she submitted to his command.

  At first, she thought a clootie or a night creature set upon her. The man’s face covered with darkness and his eyes glowed, and he wore obscure attire. Mayhap she’d met the devil himself this night. Her heart thumped in her throat and every possible terrifying thought crossed her mind in a flash.

  “Shhh, I’ll not harm ye.”

  Taking a moment to calm her breath, and on closer inspection, her heart slowed. Kerrigan recognized his voice, for he was one of the men she’d spied at the mead hall. He had to be one of the king’s guardsmen.

  God sent me good favor this night.

  The man’s hand lowered it to her throat. He continued to hold her and pressed her neck with his bulky hand and squeezing fingers. Pressure from the force of his hand cut to her throat and restricted her speech. The fiend turned and peered between the trees.

  “Speak not.”

  Again, she nodded, not that she could voice a word. The man set an arm around her torso and lifted her. He carried her in the most undignified position. Kerrigan was about to protest, but then she remembered she wasn’t to make a sound. When the man reached the horses, he set her upon her feet. He kept an arm around her torso and pulled her against his hard body.

  “You are an inconvenience, lad.”

  She scrunched her eyes in objection to being called a lad. Her voice rasped, “I don’t mean to be.”

  “Do you not realize your peril? There’s an army headed here. Fighting will begin before sunrise. You’ll be in the thick of it.”

  His voice had a deep burr to it and put her at ease. That is until she realized what his words meant. Kerrigan drew in a startled breath and pulled away from him.

  “God Almighty, I hadn’t realized. I must be away.”

  The man reached out a hand and clasped her upper arm and stopped her from fleeing. His hold pinched her skin, and she snatched her arm from his grip.

  “Who are you? And why do ye follow us? I demand to ken.”

  She rubbed the sting of his hold from her arm. “I’m from Bothwell castle and hoped to gain your aid. I was going to approach you at the hall, but you left hastily, before I could present myself. There was naught to do but follow.”

  “Then ye ken who I am? What we do? I suppose ye heard the tales?” His voice sounded appealing, but the rest of him … Glory be. He stood too close and towered above her.

  She nodded to the last question and took a step back. “I do not know who you are in truth, but know of your renown. The villagers are a tither with your deeds. I pray you will help me. Laird Moray made me vow, but I cannot do it alone.”

  “The name’s Graeme, from the clan Cameron. I was of the king’s guard, but no longer.”

  “Sir, Laird Moray asked a favor of me before his death and I mean to honor his request with your help. But if you are not of the king’s guard, I shall take my leave.” Kerrigan waited for his response, but he gazed at her as if deep in thought. Her breath stilled, for she despaired he wouldn’t help her.

  “Moray? It’s said he’s dead. Is he?”

  She sighed and dismayed she had to confirm his supposition. “He died last month.”

  “I’m sorry, lad, for your loss. Were ye employed by him? Or are you of the clan Moray yourself?” He shifted his stance and looked beyond at the trees.

  When she didn’t answer, he pulled her closer and flung her hood from her head before she could stop him. If he was surprised to find her a woman, he made no assertion. Yet, he stood as solidly as a hundred-year-old oak. His eyes raked over her and finally he cleared his throat.

  “You’re a woman. Aye, a daft lass bent on getting yourself killed.” He turned abruptly to his horse and took the leads. The man gripped her arm and led his horse away from the trees.

  “I beg your pardon, sir, but I wasn’t aware you were headed to a war.” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t allow her to.

  “I am who you seek and will consider aiding you.”

  She startled at his admission. “I will leave you to your fighting and shall find you later.” Kerrigan wasn’t about to admit to the man that he intimidated her. His body was stealthy and sinewy with musculature. Though she was only a head shorter than he, he seemed to be a giant and verily sure of himself.

  “Wait. I cannot allow ye to traipse alone in the woods.”

  She couldn’t hold back the grin that came. “Why not? I am capable of eluding an army.”

  He blocked her path and set his fisted hands on his hips. “I doubt that, lass. That is the least of your worry. If someone finds you out here …”

  Her spine stiffened
with resolve. “I can take care of myself, sir. I have no need of your concern or protection.”

  The man moved closer, his body came within inches of hers. “Do ye ken what they’d do to a woman? Men are barbarians when in the midst of war. They’re not in their right mind. You’re too bonny for your own good, lass. I cannot risk it.”

  Why did men take on such a scowl when they were annoyed? He appeared cross. It wasn’t her fault she appealed, or that she interrupted his skirmish. Mayhap it was, but Kerrigan only wanted to be gone and wasn’t about to deliberate over either matter.

  “I shall go. Worry not for me. I thank you for your gallant concern.” Kerrigan tried to step around him, but he moved in unison with her and refused to move out of the way. “Allow me to pass, sir. I must leave at once.”

  “My honor won’t allow me to let you go unattended.”

  She found humor in that, but resisted laughter. “Your honor is unbound, sir, and I promise not to hold you accountable for what befalls me. I will return alone and shall be well enough. You are free to go about your battle.”

  “Are ye plain foolish, woman? I cannot allow you to go without protection. Come along. We’ll sneak out of the woods and around the army. Here,” he said, and reached into his satchel. “Wear this cloak. For yours is too light and will give us away.”

  She donned the dark grayish cloak over hers and tied the string at the neck when he took hold of her hand and yanked her forward. He dragged her toward the trees and stopped when he reached the center of five thickly branched birches.

  What he did next shocked her; so much so, she couldn’t fathom what he was doing. He reached to the ground and took a handful of ashes and soot and swiped them on her face. The man made quick work of his task and wasn’t gentle about it. She was sure to have scratches from the sharp edges of the soot.

  “Your skin is too light and your face too bonny, lass, now none shall see ye. Och if they do they’ll deem ye an unkempt lad. Come.” He led her back to the horses and mounted a large black horse. Was everything about the man dark? Was he a villainous knave?

  Kerrigan could’ve laughed at her summation. For indeed, he seemed to be the devil, and she wondered if God tricked her.

  God hasn’t sent me good fortune after all.

  He threw a hand down at her and she looked at it, daunted by its size and suggestion.

  She stepped back and shook her head. “I’ve my horse. It’s over there, by the large stone.”

  “Take my hand, lass. We have no time, and I will hear no argument. We must make haste.”

  Kerrigan was at a complete loss. Never had she put herself in such a position. He seemed dangerous and if she lived through this night it would surely be miraculous.

  “Take it,” he said in a more commanded tone. The sound of sword strikes came, and he turned to look back through the trees. “We must go.”

  She placed her hand in his and he yanked her upon his lap. The soot on her face tickled her nose, and she sneezed. She hadn’t meant to sneeze so forcibly, but her nose wouldn’t cooperate, and she sneezed again.

  “God Almighty, you’re bent on alerting the army we’re here, are ye not? Now be quiet.” He set off and in a matter of minutes, they left the dense woods.

  Kerrigan kept her eyes ahead and promised herself she wouldn’t take heed of the hands holding her so tightly around her waist. Even as she promised herself that, she noticed how his fingers pressed her ribs, just beneath her breast. Warmth settled in her belly and wound its way to her chest. Certain she burned within, she took a deep breath, and hoped to lessen the sensation. She swallowed hard and tried to abate another sneeze that threated to come forth.

  The man leaned close to her ear, and she felt his warm breath on her skin. “The army is there, ahead. We’ll revert around them. Make no noise until we pass them.”

  “I understand, sir,” she whispered. Her breath came in shallow spurts, for the army was large and she discerned their silhouetted bodies in the clearing of the field. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of men headed in their direction.

  “Graeme, lass. My name’s Graeme. If we’re to be killed this night, I’d prefer if I heard ye speak my name from your lips before we do.”

  “Can we elude the army, Graeme?” She kept her gaze ahead, afraid if she looked away, they’d be too near.

  “Aye, they cannot see us if we keep to the tree line. They’re not being quiet and won’t catch sound of us.”

  She turned to face him and tilted her head. “Why? Are they confident in their approach?”

  “Methven is occupied by the English. The army that comes is the Scots. They want the English to hear them coming. To fear what is to come. Brazen of them, but perhaps it will lend the mood they wish to present.”

  “And what mood is that?”

  “That the devil is coming for their souls.” His words spoken low near her ear sent a shiver down her spine. Shouts and growls reverberated over the land at their approach.

  How Kerrigan remained still at his words, she had no reasoning. She should’ve jumped from the horse and ran screaming for help. Aye, the devil verily lurked in these woods or perhaps she was right and he sat behind her.

  “I pray the Scots claim victory this night.” She turned back and noticed they’d made more ground and was farther away from the army.

  “I’m beginning to like ye, lass.”

  “My laird died of injuries from the last battle.” Her sorrowful words came with a dejected sigh.

  “His loss will be felt by many. Moray was a respected leader. Let us quiet now.”

  His words lightened her heart, for he couldn’t be the devil if he respected her laird. Kerrigan lowered her chin and kept her eyes on the horse’s neck. She hoped none of the soldiers spotted them. Her body became heavy and lethargic with the pace of the horse. The night seemed to last forever, and she opened her eyes. She realized she must have closed them at some point.

  Her hair came loose of its ties. The pull of it between them hurt, so she leaned forward and drew the length of it over her shoulder. When she glanced back at Graeme, his face was besides hers. His whiskered cheek almost grazed hers when he leaned forward. His lips a little too close to hers. He could kiss her if is he was wont, but he didn’t and leaned back to give her room.

  The horse continued to move, and she tensed when they took a small hill. Her body leaned back against the hard torso of her escort. He slipped his arm around her and pulled her tighter against him. Why such a movement affected her, she didn’t know, but something tugged at her, emotions she wasn’t wont to admit or consider.

  Toward morning, the shadows of the night faded. The sun still hadn’t risen enough to lend a glow. Kerrigan noticed the peak of the abbey in the distance. Beyond the highest turret, two hawks flew in a circular motion, swooped around the peak. The monks called it Sweetheart Abbey. They were close to Dumfries.

  Whenever she walked near the abbey, she hoped to get a glimpse of Lady Devorgilla’s ghost. For who wouldn’t be captivated by her tale? It was said the lady had the abbey erected in honor of her deceased husband, and she was buried upon her death with her husband’s heart. The romantic tale of her gesture inspired many a woman. Kerrigan wondered if ever she’d love someone to such an extreme to do something as endearing.

  “We’ll stop here for a few minutes to rest.”

  Kerrigan waited for Graeme to dismount, and when he put out his hand to help her, she marveled at his strength and endurance. He didn’t seem a bit tired from their journey. How she wanted a comfortable bed and a blazed fire.

  As they approached the abbey, he took hold of her hand. When she tried to pull away, he held fast. “Stay with me, lass.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, several in fact, at the way he’d spoken. She was being silly, and surely must be tired beyond all sense. Kerrigan allowed him the liberty of taking hold of her hand. She noticed someone stood in the doorway of the abbey in the distance. The closer she got, the more she recognized a c
loak of light blue. The woman wore an expensive garment, for it cost dearly to have one’s garments dyed to such a color. She couldn’t see the lady’s hair as the hood of the cloak was pulled over her head.

  When they passed through the gate of the high arch that led to the walkway, the woman turned and appeared to grow apprehensive at their approach. The lady held a large dagger above her head, but lowered it and turned to look at the lane beyond her. She lifted her skirts and ran through the courtyard. Before they could stop her, the woman disappeared. Kerrigan loped to the end of the lane and saw no sign of her. It was as if she vanished into the air. Was she Lady Devorgilla’s ghost?

  “What do you make of that? Do you deem it was a ghost?”

  Graeme shrugged his shoulder. “I know not. Let us go inside. I need to see the friar.”

  Kerrigan walked toward the door and when she reached the stone of the lone step, she noticed a bundle of gray fabric. It moved. “Glory be.”

  “What is it?” Graeme leaned forward and peered over her shoulder.

  They knelt by the step and Kerrigan pulled the fabric until she revealed the cherub face of a bairn. It had no hair upon its head. The babe’s wide eyes took her in, and it wailed. She jumped back.

  “’Tis a babe,” she said in awe.

  “Aye, I can see that. Do ye think you can do something about its crying?”

  She looked him in the eyes and could’ve laughed, for she never held a babe before and had no knowledge of how to handle such a fragile person. “Do you?”

  “Do I look like a woman?” A light chuckle came from his mouth when she elbowed his side.

  “Move then. I suppose it is up to me.” She took the bundle from the step and held it in her arms. “There, there, wee one.”

  The bairn wouldn’t cease its wail and appeared to assess her. Its wails lessened, but it continued to whimper.

  “You’re good with babes,” he said sarcastically. “Come, we’ll get inside and figure out what to do with it.” Graeme knocked at the door and it was opened by a brown-cloaked figure.